The Hawke and the Wolf
by Living Dead Girl 07
Summary: Hawke was sold into slavery after Malcolm died. A fill for the kink meme. WARNING: Contains VERY adult themes. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

He had just finished his brutal training as Danarius' bodyguard the first time he saw her. He was standing stoic and watchful, the perfect slave, at his master's side at one of his many hedonistic evenings. She only stood out from the other dancers (_body slaves_) by the quality of her clothing-it was clean and impeccable, standing out starkly from the shabby clothing the other slaves wore. When the song came to a close, Danarius clapped his hands twice and she strode over to where he sat, hips swaying.

Fenris gave her only a cursory glance when his master introduced her. Some Fereldan mageling his master had acquired as a body slave; the most valuable piece of property besides Fenris himself, his master said. The master took great pleasure in animal names, apparently, calling the new slave his hawk as she danced and spun for the master's pleasure.

"Isn't she beautiful, Fenris?" the master asked him. Fenris only nodded, knowing Master didn't really want his opinion. Master was too busy watching her swaying hips to notice, anyway.

* * *

><p>Fenris knew the hawk was a near-permanent fixture in the master's bedchambers; it wasn't as though his master was discrete with his pleasures, and it was Fenris' duty to see to his master's safety at all times. Unfortunately. Still, Fenris never really looked at her. Not until the second (in terms of really <em>seeing<em>) time he saw her.

He was granted (_blessedly granted_) time to bathe in the chambers set aside for the master's favorite slaves. He paid the others no mind, letting the streaming water wash away his filth and sweat in this sweet moment away from his master's (_unwanted, disgusting_) touch. Perhaps he was complacent in this brief moment of relative solitude, for he paid no mind to the raven-haired figure waltzing towards him-at least not until he felt the sting of a slap upon his face.

His markings flared to life almost without thought, but the woman in front of him did not back down. He forced himself to calm when he recognized her, the hawk looking every inch her namesake.

"So," she said with false charm, looking at him from under her lashes with practiced seduction, "I hear you're our master's favorite new fuck-toy."

Fenris did not know how to respond. The master often took pleasure in Fenris' body, true, but it was not as though Fenris _welcomed_the attention. She stepped closer to him, water trailing in rivulets down her naked form.

"Listen closely, elf," she said, dropping the facade of charm. "My position is only held because I'm Master's favorite, and I won't have some little upstart taking that from me. Understand?" He nodded, confused. "Good." She smiled again before turning on her heal and walking out of the bathing room, practically oozing sensuality the whole way. This hawk was a strange one, of that Fenris had no doubt.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris did not see her again until the next evening. The master had the hawk kneeling at his feet when Fenris returned from bathing, a hand fisted in her hair to force her head up. When Fenris took his place at his master's side, the master snapped his fingers twice. Almost instantly, five slaves brought out a tall and well-muscled human male and proceeded to tie him to one of the many posts the master used for public whippings. The hawk gave a little whimper, and Fenris glanced down at her, confused. Her grey eyes were bloodshot and tearful as they followed the movements of the tall human being prepared for punishment.

Fenris looked back up just in time to see the first lash strike the human's back. The hawk gave a small cry each time the human was whipped, as though it was her flesh being scorred. Her pain was obviously the master's intent. Why else would she be forced to watch? Fenris did not understand, not until the slave was led out. Dull grey eyes looked out under raven-black hair that was not quite long enough to hide the sunburst brand on his (_her brother's_) forehead.

Fenris' concentration was interrupted when the master spoke.

"Now, my little hawk, have we learned our lesson?"

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master," she answered, tears rolling down red cheeks. The master glanced at Fenris.

"Perhaps you should show Fenris how sorry you are."

The master released her hair and she crawled over to kneel in from of Fenris. Fenris cast his mind about for some idea of what this was about. As she began to undo the straps of his trousers with shaking hands, his mind settled on the (_slap_) incident in the bathing room. his mind whirled as she stroked and licked his manhood to life, before taking him to the base in her mouth. Small hands fondled his sack and the area behind it with practiced ease, sending small jolts of magic into sensitive spots. It was too much, and he came surprisingly quickly under her skilled ministrations.

She licked him clean, gently tucking him back into his clothing and refastening various belts and straps. She crawled back over to the master's feet and lowered her head to the floor. The master gestured for some of the other slaves.

"Take her."

The slaves pulled her up off the floor and walked her out.

* * *

><p>The next incident with the hawk again came in the bathing room. Fenris was scrubbing vigorously at his (<em>never be clean<em>) skin. The master had just...taken him for the first time. Fenris had been touched sexually before, but never like this (_vile, disgusting, get away!_). He felt dirty (_tainted; never clean again, never_). He was surprised when soft hands touched his shoulders; the bathing room had been empty when he came in, and he spun to face the intruder, eyes wide.

It was the hawk. She gently removed the washrag from his hands before he could harm himself. He looked at her for a moment, breathing heavily, before sinking into a heap on the cold floor of the chamber. She knelt next to him, unashamed or unaware of her nakedness, petting his hair and smiling sadly at him. When he had calmed somewhat, she spoke in soft tones.

"It gets easier," she said with a knowing look. "Each time, it gets a little easier. Eventually, you'll be able to close your eyes and pretend you're not even there. You'll just imagine yourself anywhere you want."

He looked up at her and saw the sensual mask slip. Instead, he saw old eyes staring out of a young face. Sad eyes, tired eyes, eyes that have seen too much. He leaned into her touch, indulging in the (_safe, different_) gentleness for just a moment.

"What do you imagine?" he whispered. She looked down and smiled sadly at him.

"I imagine muddy hills and green fields; I think of cold rain and the smell of dogs." Fenris could hear what she didn't say: she thought of Fereldan, of a time before she was a slave. She thought of home.


	3. Chapter 3

And so Fenris watched. he watched as the hawk went through the days, ashe she danced and performed with eyes closed and a small smile on her face. He watched as she serviced the master with practiced ease that kept one from thinking too much about what one was doing; and as Fenris watched, he learned, he imitated. Whe the master would touch him, Fenris closed his eyes and thought of soft hands in his hair. It was enough (_barely_) to keep him sane, to keep him whole.

It was infuriating, really, how often Fenris thought of her. He could admit that the hawk held a certain...physical appeal, but it wasn't as though she spoke with him often, nor had she shown him a kindness like the (_wonderful, beautiful_) comfort she gave in the bathing room again. it didn't seem to matter-Fenris could not stop thinking of her. When he watched the hawk dance in the evenings, Fenris wondered who she was before she was a slave; he would contemplate the color of her eyes when standing guard during meals, or her curious name while he was in the bathing room.

It made no sense, Fenris knew. They were both slaves, toys to be used at their master's whims. A slave did not have attachments, just as a slave had no possessions. It was madness, but Fenris could not keep himself from wanting her.

he began to ask the hawk small questions about herself. He was met with confusion at best and open hostility (_fear_) at worst, with one notable exception-her name. When he had asked what her name was, she had looked confused.

"It's Hawke."

Fenris had turned away (_dejected, disappointed, rejected_), when he felt her hand barely touch his shoulder. He turned, and Fenris was surprised to see a fleeting look of sadness on her face.

"My name was Cameron Hawke. The master-the master found my surname amusing and decided to keep it. So, now I'm Hawke, just Hawke." She looked sad for a moment, before turning to him with angry eyes. "Why do you ask me such questions. What purpose does it serve? I'm property now, nothing more." Hawke practically bristled with agitation as she stalked away.

He rolled her name around in his mind (_Hawke. Hawke_). Fenris liked how it felt.


	4. Chapter 4

They continued in this fashion for weeks, Fenris silently obsessing over the strange body slave, tentatively reaching out to be rebuffed or, occasionally, rewarded with bits of information or affectionate touches. It was a pattern that Fenris gladly sank into; it granted him some measure of peace, having a routine, and he clung to the gestures of Hawke's care as one might cling to bits of floatsam while being tossed about by waves. Hawke was not always kind, but, while often impatient, she was never cruel. He had even asked her, once, if she knew anything of him or his life before the markings. She gave him a rare, sad smile then.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. Whoever you were, it wasn't one of Master's slaves. I never saw you before you received your training."

Everything changed, however, when the master's apprentice returned from whatever hole she had disappeared to.

Fenris had met the apprentice only once before, and almost immediately she had reminded him of a snake, coiled and poised to strike at the first opportunity. It was one of the (_only_) blessings of being counted among the master's favorites-the apprentice could not touch Fenris without the master's express permission, and unlike most other magisters, the master did not share often. The master denied all of the apprentice's attempts to bed Fenris, to the snake's increasing ire. Fenris silently (_gloated_) thanked whatever god there was above that she would not be touching him anytime soon-the glimpses he caught of her face from under his fringe of hair promised nothing good if she ever did. In the end, however, it was Hawke that paid the price for his status as valuable.

* * *

><p>Fenris had not seen Hawke for several days. It wasn't unusual for her to disappear into the master's chambers for extended periods of time, but Fenris couldn't shake a nagging feeling that something was off. He happened upon her in the bathing room a few days after the master had told the snake, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be taking Fenris to bed anytime soon. Fenris had reveled in this small victory; but it seemed the snake had found another target for her rage, and the master had not been so kind to Hawke.<p>

She was in an isolated corner of the room, hot water streaming down her lithe form and no doubt burning the whelps crossing her back. She was red-faced, scrubbing harshly at her skin. Fenris was at her side an instant later. He cared for her (_loved her_) in his own strange, broken way, and she for him (_please, please_); Fenris would not let her tear the hide from her own body.

He took the cloth from her hand, and she turned, lashing out at her possible attacker. When she saw it was him, she choked out a harsh sob and fell into his arms. He slid down the wall to the floor with her, and took a moment to marvel at this reversal of positions (_protector, always, for her_). She was crying in earnest now, and it frightened him. He shushed her as best he could, but his kindness only seemed to inflame her tears.

"Sh-she...made me-with my _brother_-" she managed to choke out in between sobs. Fenris had no doubt as to whom Hawke was referring. The snake truly had no soul. "She just kept whipping me and-and I couldn't-"

"It's alright, Hawke. It's going to be alright," he whispered.

"No, Fenris. It will never be alright."

And so he sat there, on the cold tile floor, stroking Hawke's hair in a vain effort to calm her, until the other slaves came looking for them both. Fenris watched her walk away with none of her usual swagger, and felt a strange heaviness settle in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Hadriana seemed to have made it her personal mission to disrupt Fenris's life as much as possible. She may not have had permission to touch him, but this did not deter the snake for long. She haunted his footsteps in the rare (_precious_) moments Fenris was away from his master' she hounded his sleep as he lay in the receiving room outside the master's bedchamber door at night; she spat in his meals as she passed, and when this did not stop him from eating, she would kick the food out of his hands and step on it as she passed. It seemed everywhere Fenris turned, there was the snake, coiled and waiting. He didn't dare show any affection towards Hawke, fearful of what Hadriana would do to her to hurt Fenris. Hawke (_thankfully, mercifully_) seemed to understand. She, too, had stopped the myriad of small things she did that showed Fenris she had come to care for him, as well. It was difficult (_torturous_) to make it through his days without her smile, her touch, her voice; but Fenris would protect Hawke from the snake as best he could. With any luck, the master's apprentice would be leaving again soon. Life as a slave, however, should have taught Fenris that luck was never on his side.

* * *

><p>The master's chambers were expansive, and while Fenris was often banished to sleeping outside the door to the master's private bed chamber, Hawke's status as a prized body slave afforded her a small, but private, chamber to sleep in when the master did not require her services. Often, she would pass Fenris's post outside the door as she slipped back to her room. Sometimes, they would speak quietly before she would retire, and if she was not too tired, she would occasionally join him on his nightly vigil. These were stolen moments that Fenris treasured, and it was their absence that he sorely missed while the snake was in the master's household.<p>

As time passed with no end to Hadriana's presence in sight, Fenris grew restless. He took to prowling the receiving room at night, often pacing in imitation of his namesake; and, as any proper slave knew, longing and restlessness often lead to harsh consequences. One late night, Hawke emerged from the master's bedchamber looking, as she so often did lately, tired and despondent. Fenris had stopped his relentless pacing when she emerged, and Hawke looked at him with sad eyes before she turned to retire for the eve. Fenris didn't know what triggered his reaction. Perhaps it was the defeated look on her face, or the sudden vision of endless days and nights in this colorless existence that loomed before him, but his hand shot out and grabbed hold of her arm. Hawke looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Fenris," she breathed, "we can't. If someone sees..." Hawke didn't make a move to release herself from his grip, however, and she trembled lightly beneath his hand. He turned her to face him.

"I've been thinking of you, lately," he said, with quiet intensity. "In fact, I've been able to think of little else."

"I've missed you. So much. But I can't risk her using me to hurt you."

She looked so devastated, and Fenris couldn't take the tension anymore. He pulled her towards him, and kissed her. She melted under his touch, kissing back tentatively with none of her usual finesse. She was nervous, he realized, and he sought to chase away her fears. He gently nipped at her bottom lip, and she yielded, opening under him. His hands slipped up her arms to cup her face, and she clutched at his back as though she would float away if she let go. He stroked her tongue with his own, exploring the cavern of her mouth. She sighed under him as he brought the kiss to a close. Touching his forehead to hers and looking into her eyes, he smiled. Her answering smile (_beautiful, radiant_) was like sunshine after rain.

Neither of them noticed, however, the glittering eyes peering out from the darkened doorway leading off to another bedchamber.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days passed in the serenity of stolen looks and soft smiles. Nothing, not his master's whims nor Hadriana's torments could bring Fenris down. He found himself touching his mouth during quiet moments alone, remembering the feel of Hawke's soft lips against his own. They had to be careful, Fenris knew—if Master ever found out….Fenris shuddered at the idea.

It was evening. Fenris was seated outside the master's door, eating his nightly meal. Hadriana strode by, kicking his meal into the floor and laughing as he scrambled to pick it up before she could completely destroy it.

"Don't worry, little wolf. I'm not going to take your supper tonight."

She laughed again as Fenris began eating what was left at an alarmingly fast pace, obviously not believing her.

"You'll need your energy for what I'm about to propose," she said, and Fenris glanced up at her, despite himself. "You are going to beg Danarius for the honor of pleasuring me this evening, little wolf. Trust me when I say you do not wish to see what will happen if you don't."

She rose, striding towards the doorway leading to her own chambers. Fenris watched her go from beneath the fringe of his hair. What was the snake playing at? She couldn't touch him, not without the master's permission; and if she had permission, why would she tell him to beg?

The next day passed without event. Hadriana didn't mention Fenris's failure to attend to her the previous night, and Fenris couldn't help but be suspicious. As afternoon faded into evening, his suspicions would prove warranted. Both Hadriana and Hawke were absent from the evening's revelry. His master did not act as though something was amiss, and Fenris felt as though he were standing on the edge of a great abyss waiting for the inevitable (_push_) plummet. His anxiety was only compounded by Hawke's failure to appear in the bathing room that night.

Fenris was absently scrubbing himself, worry festering in the pit of his stomach. The master had told Fenris that the snake would be his (_whore_) companion for the eve, and gave Fenris extra time to indulge himself with hot water at the snake's behest. What was her plan? His answer came in the form of two twitchy slaves practically dragging an unconscious Hawke between them to lay at Fenris's feet.

Fenris was in shock. Hawke skin was unbroken, but deep, ugly burns that seemed to bloom from under her skin showed the signs of magical torture. Blood seeped slowly from between her legs, and Fenris did not want to imagine what had been done to her. He did not realize that the slaves were still standing there until one of them spoke in a wavering voice.

"Th-the mistress…s-s-said to t-t-tell you: 'T-told you s-s-s-o.'"

Fenris looked up at him with feral eyes and growled (_they dare, they dare_), and the slaves ran to the doorway (_ the snake_. Fenris lifted Hawke, and gently set her on one of the counters lining the room. She moaned, eyelashes fluttering, but she did not wake. Fenris stroked her hair (_sorry, sorry, so sorry_). The snake; she knew, somehow she knew and she wouldn't stop.

"Well, now; would we like to try this again?" a voice called from the doorway. Fenris didn't need to turn to know who was speaking. He kept his gaze on Hawke's face.

"I'll say it again, elf. You will beg Danarius to be allowed to stay tomorrow night with me. I can and will do much, much worse to your little pet every night you refuse...or fail. I suggest you be convincing, else I'll flail her pretty hide and heal it back all night long. Tell me, little wolf, have you ever had your fingernails ripped out and regrown over and over again?" Her laugh echoed off the cold tile walls and her footsteps faded into the distance. 


	7. Chapter 7

It took four days of pitiful begging before Fenris was able to sway his master, four nights of Hawke being deposited in front of him in varying states of consciousness. He cleaned and comforted her as best he was able, but she refused to speak to him of what happened in the snake's chambers.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he would whisper each night as he held her. She would turn her sad (_haunted, broken_) eyes on him and whisper back her assurances that it wasn't his fault (_it was, oh, it was_). Finally, finally his master relented and sent him to the snake's rooms for the eve.

Hadriana's chambers looked more like one of his master's dungeons than a place where someone lived. Various tools were laid out on metal trays in neat rows. Fenris tried not to look at them longer than he had to, not wanting to contemplate their uses. Several thick, velvet curtains segmented the expansive chambers; Fenris caught glimpses of metal under more than one curtain. Most intimidating, however, was the large, metal table, complete with shackles, in the center of the room.

The snake practically melted out of the darkness, appearing before him in an instant. His markings flared for a moment on instinct, and earned him a slap across the face.

"Rule number one, slave: you will not fight back." Fenris kept his eyes glued to the ground as she circled around him. "Strip," she ordered, and Fenris hastily complied. She hummed appreciatively, stroking a hand down his torso as he stood before her in nude glory. "Danarius has forbidden me from doing any...permanent damage, but I think we can still have fun tonight, don't you?"

"As you say, Mistress," he murmured. That earned him another hit, this time to the temple. His vision swam as he struggled to keep his footing.

"You will not speak without permission, slave!" Fenris heard her take several deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice was almost frighteningly calm.

"Time to play, slave." She grabbed his arm with force that belied her stature, her claw-like nails biting into his skin. Fenris did not fight her as she threw him on the table, locking his wrists and ankles in the cuffs. "First things first, I think. Let's make sure you can't get away."

The snake walked over to the merrily burning fire and took out a red-hot rod. Fenris felt his stomach churn unpleasantly when he saw it. The snake walked with deliberate calmness to the bottom of the table where his feet were shackled. His eyes widened in horrified realization an instant before the hot metal made contact with the sole of his bare foot. Fenris writhed on the cold table, trying not to scream as Hadriana scored precise lines up the bottoms of his feet; he held out until the sixth line, biting his lips until blood ran down the corners of his mouth, before the scream came bubbling out of his lips. Hadriana was smiling.

"There, now, that should keep you from trying to get free. Pity I'll have to heal it later. The marks are so pretty. Now, what to do first?"

She walked over to one of the trays, obviously thinking over her choices. She noticed Fenris's eyes upon her and frowned before picking up a strange, metal collar.

"Since you can't keep your eyes in their proper place, slave, it seems I'll have to do it for you." She jerked his head back, and Fenris felt a strange pressure under his jaw and on his collarbone as she fastened the collar. The pressure quickly turned to pain as four prongs bit into his flesh, two under his mouth and two on his chest. The snake kept talking, oblivious or uncaring to his pain.

"It's an ingenious device, really. As long as you keep your head still, the damage from the spikes will be minimal. Now, let's have some real fun."


	8. Chapter 8

He could not see what she was doing, but the rustling of instruments told him that it was nothing good. The snake made a soft "hmm" from somewhere above his head, and Fenris tensed in anticipation. She walked back into his view, twirling a stout rod between her long fingers. Fenris closed his eyes and waited for the first blow. Tense seconds passed, and with no strike seemingly coming, Fenris dared to let out the breath he had been holding.

The impact of the cane on his abdomen caught him off guard, and Fenris let out a grunt in surprise. Hadriana set up an unpredictable rhythem, landing each blow with precision across his chest, stomach, and thighs. Fenris could not keep quiet, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of a scream. A blow that fractured at least two of his ribs almost broke his resolve, but the snake's laugh only served to keep his traitorous voice in check.

"Too much for you, slave? That's alright. I'm done playing with this one, anyway."

A clatter on the stone floor told Fenris she had dropped or thrown the cane, and he did his best to breathe around the pain in his ribs. A blue glow illuminated his closed eyes, and a sudden pain in his middle had him gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of him. He felt his bones forcibly put back into place, and the flesh of his chest and stomach rapidly, and painfully, knit back together. She was healing him, and the magic along his brands hurt nearly as bad as the caning itself had.

"Can't send you back in pieces. Danarius would have my head."

Fenris was trying to ignore her, and the dull throb in his feet, choosing instead to enjoy drawing in full breaths of air. The feel of the blade against his flesh made him choke. A small, razor sharp blade was tracing patterns along the unmarred skin of his arms. Fenris was clenching his teeth nearly hard enough to break with the effort of not screaming (_don't give in, keep silent_). Pained noises made their way out of his throat as she began to peel the flesh off of his arm.

"Danarius said not to touch the lyrium," she said, in a conversational tone, "but he never said anything about the rest of your hide. What pretty patterns the blood makes."

She moved to his other arm, cutting still more flesh from the muscle, and Fenris could see, from the corner of his eye, his own skin laying on the metal tray. Just when his vision was starting to become hazy around the edges, healing magic ripped through his body again. The horror of it all finally started to set in as he realized her game. There was no escape.

* * *

><p>Fenris was dragged unceremoniously back to Master's chambers. He was weak and nearly unconscious, but otherwise showed no mark of the evening. The slaves guarding Master's door didn't even look as he was hauled into a side room and dumped on the cot waiting there. Fenris didn't move, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think (<em>pretty patterns<em>.) A soft patter of footsteps and the smell of expensive oils heralded Hawke's entrance (_safe now, safe with Hawke_). Fenris tried to turn his body to look at her, but he was simply too exhausted.

"Oh, Fenris," she whispered, placing a blessedly cool hand upon his brow and petting his hair. She pulled away after a moment, and he couldn't stop the low whine that escaped him (_don't leave, don't leave me here_). She shushed him, gently pulling him into the correct position on the cot.

Hawke sat down next to him, placing his head on her lap and running her fingers through his hair. He slept, hand fisted in her silk robe and nose full of her scent (_safe_).


	9. Chapter 9

Hawke was gone when he woke, the faint whiff of her perfume the only proof she had ever been there. He found his armor and sword waiting for him in the far corner of the room. By the time he was dressed and ready, muscles screaming out in protest at the movement, he had resigned himself to more of the same treatment tonight.

The wait outside of Master's door lasted ages. Fenris glanced often at the eastern window. It wasn't just his discomfort making time seem to drag-Master was taking much longer than usual this morning. Finally, just before midday, Master came gliding out of his room, Hawke trailing behind him. Her head was held demurely down, but she chanced a glance at him and gave him a small smile as Fenris trailed after Master.

Fenris weathered the day, a throwback to his harsh conditioning, no doubt, but it served him well. His anxiety grew with the darkening of the sky, and his stomach filled with dread when he saw the furious look on Hadriana's face at supper. He stared straight ahead at his master's side, as always, but he could feel the force of her glare upon him. Several times, he had to remind himself he was doing this to protect Hawke, to keep her out of the snake's clutches.

He was surprised, then, when Master did not send him to Hadriana for the eve, but instead ushered him into Master's inner chambers that held Master's private receiving room and bedchamber. Fenris was ordered to stay in the receiving room until morning.

The pattern continued for several days, and Fenris (_for once_) welcomed his master's attention. As long as Master kept Fenris close, the snake couldn't touch him. Master seemed to be equally possessive of Hawke, lately. It was utterly strange, but Fenris didn't question it. Tensions were running high in the estate as well, even the lowest slaves were anxious. Finally, it all came to a head.

It was a strange sight, to see Hawke kneeling by Master's feet in the evening instead of dancing. She wasn't in trouble, Fenris knew, and the master was rhythmically petting her hair as he watched the other body slaves. As the eve wore on, Master grew more agitated, as though he were waiting on something. Hadriana was nowhere to be seen.

Towards the end of the nightly revels, one of the slaves that made up the master's guards came, scurrying towards Master with purpose. The guard whispered something to the master that even Fenris's elvhen ears couldn't hear. Master smiled at the news, however, so Fenris didn't worry too much as the master sent the slave away; at least, he didn't worry until a small contingent of guards came, dragging two haggard slaves with them.

Master's smile grew, and Fenris realized with a jolt that he knew these slaves: they were the guards that took up his post outside the master's room whenever Fenris was sent to bathe (_or sent to the snake's rooms_).

The master gestured for silence, and instantly a quiet fell upon the room. Still smiling, the master stood.

"Bring forth the accused." The slave-guards hastened to comply, dragging the nearly unconscious men towards Master, forcing them to kneel and holding swords to their throats. Fenris could see them better now, and see the mark of the snake's tender care.

"I find I am called upon to remind you all of your place," Master said, voice dripping with saccharine condescension, "and to show you all how quickly rebellion will be put down."

The master walked down from the raised dais on which he had sat, Hawke crawling gracefully beside him. When they reached the men, Master ordered her to kneel facing them.

"Are these the men you spoke of, my pet?" Master asked, hand again stroking her hair.

"Yes, Master," came the soft reply.

"You've been very good, my pet, bringing these men to me," Master cooed, raising his head to again look out at the crowd of assembled slaves. "These men have been found guilty of conspiring against me, the penalty for which is death."

With a nod from the master, the guards severed the heads of both slaves. Hawke hid her face in Master's robes, and while the master again cooed over his "poor pet, so afraid of violence", Hawke turned her hidden face back towards Fenris and smiled.

It was a sickening realization, bile rising in his throat, when Fenris saw that she (_Hawke, his Hawke, nononono_) had somehow arranged this. This, his master's fear of rebellion, was what had kept him at the master's side (_for me, for me, had them killed for me_). Hawke's smile faltered when she saw his paling face, but Fenris looked at the window, sky inky black, at the door, and then back at her (_later, when all are asleep_). Hawke seemed to understand, and dutifully danced for the master as he seated himself in his golden chair upon the dais once more.

* * *

><p>Late that night, Hawke cam limping out of Master's bedchambers. Fenris had been pacing, left alone with his thoughts while Hadriana interrogated others and Hawke was...occupied. Blood and violence always did whet his master's appetite for flesh. Fenris rushed over to Hawke's side, however, when she emerged and helped her to her chambers.<p>

Fenris looked at her for a moment, so small sitting on the bed.

"Why?" he whispered. She looked up at him, her face pale and drawn.

"It kept you safe, didn't it? I told Master they came against me, frightened me with talks of rebellion and plots because I knew he would keep you close then." She dropped her head under the force of his incredulous stare.

"I couldn't let her hurt you, Fenris," she whispered.

Fenris's heart swelled, even as ice settled in the pit of his stomach. She had killed, for _him_...but she had _killed_for him. Moments ticked by in silence, until Hawke could take it no more.

"Don't hate me...please," she whispered thickly. "I don't think I could bear it."

Fenris sighed, dropping to his knees before her. Sliding two fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to look at his. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and he wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.

"I could never hate you, Hawke," he murmured, almost desperate to chase away her fears. He brushed his knuckles up the side of her face, before cupping his hand against her cheek and drawing her in for a kiss.

As her lips parted under his, he realized the truth of his words-he couldn't find it within himself to be angry with her.

After all, had she done anything less than he was willing to do for her?


	10. Chapter 10

The talk of rebellion had not been a fabrication of Hawke's, apparently. There were whispers that reached even Fenris's ears, despite the mistrust from the other slaves that came with his position. Each day, it seemed, more were found guilty; and each day, more were slaughtered at Master's behest. This did little to quell the whispers, however, and soon Master decided a change of scenery was in order.

Within two weeks of the first deaths, Master set out for Seheron. Master did not lack for slaves at any of his estates, so he took only those whose loyalty was certain: the tranquil slaves, Hawke's brother among them, Fenris, and Hawke herself. Master decided to leave Hadriana behind to "take care of this unfortunate incident."

Perhaps it was wrong of Fenris to feel giddy at the news, so much death had led to the decision, after all, but he couldn't help but be elated at the chance to finally, finally be with Hawke away from the snake. It had been so long, too long, since they had been able to steal a moment to themselves.

It would be a relief to not have to look over their shoulders in fear every time they spoke; that is not to say that they wouldn't have to be careful, but Master (_blessedly_) thought of his slaves as objects, not prone to independent thought or desire, and so didn't even notice the (_multiple_) affairs happening under his very nose.

The ship to Seheron was luxurious, as far as such things were, but even so Fenris slept on the floor in Master's private cabin. It could be worse: he could be in the hold with the other slaves, but still, Fenris quietly decided he did not like the sea (_disgusting, with all its salt and fish. Ugh._).

Two weeks on that damnable ship, two weeks in which Fenris thought he would go mad for want of land, for sold ground that didn't sway under his feet. Finally, they pulled into port, the dense heat of Seheron clinging to Fenris's skin and the rolling greenery only briefly interrupted by the occasional rooftop. They had arrived.


	11. Chapter 11

Seheron was hot. Not the arid, breathless heat of the Imperium, but a nasty, sticky mockery of a heat. Fenris longed to get out of his armour each day, waiting for that blessed moment every night when he could peel his sodden leathers off and wash the sweat from his body. The water brought no relief, however, only adding to the oppressive sense of heaviness in the air. the nights were just as bad as the days, if not worse. Impossibly, it seemed to actually grow _hotter_ when the sun set. Still, though, Fenris was glad for the change in scenery. Master was (_thankfully_) far less attentive than his apprentice.

Even Master did not prove immune to Seheron's climate. languishing on his lavish chaise lounge most days, Hawke feeding him delicate fruits as slaves wielding large fans wafted gentle breezes over his tender mage flesh. Hawke's dress was, if possible, even less modest than it had been in Tevinter. Her flashy silks had been replaced with gauzy scraps of lace, in soft colors, that barely covered anything. Fenris often watched her from his position behind Master, daydreaming of soft skin that smelled like jasmine and incense.

The nights were theirs, however. The heat quelled Master's appetite for flesh, so more often than not, Fenris and Hawke were together after Master had retired. They had not yet been...intimate, but they had become more bold as of late, daring to touch each other through clothing. Surprisingly, it had been _Hawke_ that had been nervous (_blushes and stutters made sweet by tender kisses and soft words_).

Tonight was just such a night. Master slept deeply, wine and heat sapping his energy and leaving him able to do little else. Fenris stood guard in Master's inner chambers, clad only in thin trousers, sword in easy reach. Hawke exited her chambers, gliding over to him (_beautiful, so radiant_). Taking his hand, she lead him to one of the plush velvet benches ling the room, and sat down. the night air was heavy, more-so than usual, making the wisps of hair falling from Hawke's updo stick to her neck and giving her a brilliant color. Her filmy clothes adhered themselves to her skin, and Fenris felt himself stir at the sight.

Hawke bit her lip and looked down, her hand still clutching his. She looked so nervous, and Fenris could understand why. The thought of sex with someone he _wanted_ was daunting, the wanting itself intimidating. He could only imagine how a trained body slave would be feeling, especially one that had only known the touch of their master. She wanted him in a way that was as unfamiliar as it was all-consuming, but her body had learned and learned well that sex held no pleasure for her.

Leaning towards her, Fenris lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. Hawke's gaze lifted to his, eyes still fraught with worry. Smiling gently, he spoke.

"Do not fear. I want nothing from you that you are not willing to give."

"I know," she whispered, bringing her hand up to cover his, "that's why I want to."

His eyes widened when she captured his lips with her own, before fluttering closed as he leaned into the kiss. She slid her hands down his bare torso, thumbs lightly brushing his nipples. He gasped at the sensation and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue against his. She rolled the hard peaks between thumb and forefinger, making him shudder and whine against her lips. Taking pity on him, her small hands continued their journey downward, coming to rest on his belt. 

Sucking on his tongue, she deftly undid his trousers. He keened against her lips when she drew him out, his length hard and throbbing. A whisper of magic against his skin and her hand was coated with slick. Gripping him firmly, she stroked him, her hand sliding easily along his hardness.

It felt incredible, and he tangled his hands in her hair, desperately clutching her as pleasure rippled through him. His hips shifted in time with her strokes, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Heat and pressure were building low in his belly, his breath coming in harsh pants through his nose. Ripping his mouth away from hers, Fenris could only pant her name.

"Cameron...Cam-Cameron!"

He surged up into her hand, crushing his mouth back against hers. His muscles tensed to snapping as hot seed flowed into Hawke's hand. Finally, he drifted back down, hands releasing their harsh grip as he lowered his head to rest on her shoulder. He watched as she lifted her hand to her mouth, smiling as she lapped as his seed. His cock gave an interested twitch, but no more.

Hawke gently tucked him back inside his trousers. Boneless, he tried to reach for her, wanting to reciprocate the pleasure she had given him. She chuckled at his ineffectual attempts to lift her skirt and caught his hand between her own. Fenris looked up at her, confused, and she smiled down at him.

"Not tonight,"she whispered, looking embarrassed. "Just...not tonight."

Fenris turned his head to kiss her cheek.

"Whenever you wish," he whispered against her skin. "I am yours."


	12. Chapter 12

Short one this time, but more will (hopefully) be coming soon.

* * *

><p>They were in the market when the Qunari attacked. At first, it was not obvious what was happening. There was a single scream to herald their arrival, spreading like a ripple in a pond through the crowded market. It was not until he saw the great, horned men charging through and slaughtering everyone in their path that Master realized their need to flee.<p>

With a shouted order for Fenris and Hawke to protect him (_why, oh why, had Master only brought them?_), Master turned to run, his summoned demons leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Fenris, lyrium lines illuminated, unsheathed his broadsword, cutting through the soldiers like they were nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris could see Hawke unleashing the full force of her magic, fire and ice raining down around them.

Between the three of them, they were able to carve a path to the market docks. There was chaos and carnage everywhere, magistars pressing to board ships, and innumerable bodies of slaves either bled dry or trampled beneath privileged feet. Fenris and Hawke stuck close to Master, shielding him from the worst of the crowd's press with their bodies, until they finally reached the ship.  
>The squalid man boarding passengers ushered Master on board, but stopped the two slaves from following.<p>

"No room for you lot," he grumbled. "Move along."

Fenris and Hawke froze on the deck, unsure of what to do. Master had ordered them to follow, but this man was pushing them (_and the other slaves_) away from the ship. They moved, lest they, too, should be trampled in the rush, looking back at the ship's deck.

Hawke could barely make out Master, red-faced and shouting at members of the crew, gesturing wildly in his slave's direction. She smiled faintly to herself at the sight. She may have been Master's prized body slave, his little Fereldan bitch (_he loved calling her that, waxing poetic about her homeland's respect for dogs and remarking about his own pretty, little bitch in heat_), but she hadn't yet forgotten what it meant to be free.

Poor Fenris looked lost, unsure what to do without orders, without a master. Hawke reached down to grab his hand. He jumped a little at her touch, dragging his gaze away from the ship carrying his master to look in surprise at their joined hands. He was shocked by her daring, they were completely exposed, after all, but one glance around the crowd told him that the others had more important things on their minds than two doomed slaves holding hands. He allowed her to begin guiding him toward the edge of the crowded docks, towards the jungles, towards Maker-knew-what, and didn't look back.


End file.
